Black-Red Coalition: In Search of Lost Power

Bärbel Bas’s resignation has shown that this coalition governs without a center—each party in its own way, and often bypassing the Chancellor.

Intuitively, we tend to picture power as something massive—almost physical—akin to the First Law of Thermodynamics, the law of conservation of energy. Something like this: power can be neither created nor destroyed, only transformed into other forms. The total power within a closed system remains constant. Well, if that holds true, one has to wonder these days, weeks, and months: where has it gone—the power that a federal government ought to possess?

The black-red coalition has—this much is certain—largely lost it. The Chancellor doesn’t have it, nor does the Vice-Chancellor, nor even the "shadow chancellor" in Bavaria; the parliamentary groups and party leaderships lack it too, to say nothing of the grassroots. Or are we simply not looking closely enough? Has power perhaps changed its state of matter—turned into a gas? Let us gather our tools—barometer, microscope, litmus paper, Geiger counter—and set out in search of this lost power in political Berlin.

Friedrich Merz—to start with him—struggled from the very beginning with the power that was his by virtue of his office (specifically, the authority to set policy guidelines). The government was already at risk of failing over one of its first pieces of legislation. That was almost exactly a year ago, and—just as today—the issue was pensions. The cabinet had decided to stabilize the pension level until 2031, but the Junge Union (the youth wing of the CDU/CSU), led by Johannes Winkel, threatened to block the bill in the Bundestag. The rebels eventually backed down, but they secured a concession in return: a pension commission was tasked with the job and subsequently presented a report containing 33 recommendations, which are now slated for implementation.

Winkel remains the leader of the Junge Union and has since become deputy chairman of the Union parliamentary group in the Bundestag. This weekend, the CDU’s youth organization is gathering for its "Deutschlandtag" conference. And for Winkel, the stakes have long since moved beyond the issue of pensions. He and his team aim to fill the vacuum of ideas from which the CDU is visibly suffering these days. The Union’s young MPs hold 18 seats in the Bundestag, while the coalition’s majority stands at just 12. Merz needs Winkel. And Winkel knows it.

The MPs have become power entrepreneurs in their own right.

Traditionally, it is the task of parliamentary group leaders to secure majorities. Under Angela Merkel, this role fell to Volker Kauder, who steered controversial bailout packages for Greece through the Bundestag. Since Jens Spahn’s departure, Thorsten Frei has held this responsibility, advocating for the coalition’s continued existence. Yet, recent months have demonstrated that MPs can no longer be brought into line as easily as in the past. In the age of social media, they display a new sense of confidence—even when dealing with their own leadership. They have become political power brokers in their own right.

This also applies to the eight state premiers currently representing the CDU. They have intervened in the debate over the chancellorship through joint statements and have taken a liking to this role. Consequently, a new informal body has emerged within the Federal Republic’s institutional framework. However, the state leaders struggle to reach a consensus among themselves—whether on a unified approach to the AfD or even on a successor to Merz. Hendrik Wüst is currently unwilling to step up; Markus Söder would likely be interested, but others oppose him; and Boris Rhein is positioning himself as an alternative candidate.

They remain in office, yet each governs in their own way—often bypassing the Chancellor entirely. Meanwhile, new informal groups seeking to influence government policy are springing up almost daily. On Sunday, state agriculture ministers from the Union parties voiced a joint proposal: they called on the Chancellor to halt ongoing negotiations regarding a sugar tax—even though the projected revenue from that tax has already been earmarked in the budget. A day later, the Union’s parliamentary group leaders from the state legislatures called on the Chancellor to scrap the income tax reform already approved by the Cabinet and instead lower social security contributions. Who will be next? Union-affiliated horse breeders calling for the abolition of the horse tax?

The CDU leadership sought to bring some order to the matter during a crisis meeting. The result of the two-day session was a document bearing the punchy title "What Must Happen Now." It speaks of greater fairness and the affordability of public life. The proposals themselves, however, are either well-worn (combating welfare abuse) or unaffordable (cutting the electricity tax). No clear direction emerges from it—and certainly nothing new.

After a good year and a half of Friedrich Merz’s chancellorship, one thing is clear: they are still governing—but each in their own way, and often bypassing the Chancellor.

The Chancellor and his deputy hardly trust each other anymore.

And what about the Vice Chancellor? Formally, following Bas’s resignation, Lars Klingbeil is the sole leader of the SPD. The question, however, is what practical advantage that actually gives him. After Manuela Schwesig successfully defended her position as Minister-President of Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania by adopting a stance critical of reforms, a new power center has emerged there. Senior figures in the parliamentary group and the party report speaking with her by phone almost daily. For major initiatives like pension reform, close attention is paid to what Schwesig is willing to support. "We won't get a majority for it without Manu"—that is the kind of thing one hears among Social Democrats these days.

It is an old and typical problem for Social Democracy, one that is now making itself felt with renewed intensity: the party is torn between its responsibility to govern alongside the Union and a longing for a different kind of politics—a more left-wing politics. The SPD is a party deeply committed to the stability of the state; it has been part of the federal government for 16 of the last 20 years. It entered into coalitions with the Union even when left-wing majorities existed in the Bundestag. In the process, its vote share plummeted from 34.2 percent (2005) to 16.4 percent (2025). Many within the party complain that it is no longer clear what the party actually stands for.

For many Social Democrats, it felt like a moment of liberation last week when the Bundestag parliamentary group—led by Boris Pistorius—marched to Bebelplatz to sing the national anthem together in protest against the election of an AfD candidate as president of the state parliament in Saxony-Anhalt. For SPD politicians, the fight against fascism is a historic mission. Every day, in their parliamentary group offices, they walk past images of Otto Wels and the names of the deputies who voted against the Nazis’ Enabling Act in the 1930s. Following the protest at Bebelplatz, there was a sense that the onus was now "on us again," says parliamentary group leader Mathias Miersch. Pension reform cannot compete with that. The past, too, is a force to be reckoned with.

The way Bärbel Bas was treated has exacerbated the rift.

Where all this is leading became apparent recently in the Bundestag, where—by their own admission—SPD members have to restrain themselves in the plenary chamber to avoid applauding the Greens and the Left Party. It is often the backbenchers who no longer bother to maintain the appearance of a harmonious government, openly complaining about their coalition partner. They watch with suspicion as figures from the Union—such as Hessian Minister-President Boris Rhein—question the "firewall" against the far right. The sentiment is increasingly heard: if the Union moves to the right, we will move to the left. The temporary halt to exploratory talks in Berlin illustrates just how difficult this dynamic can become.

The handling of the Bärbel Bas affair has further exacerbated the rift. Within the SPD, the Union is accused of speaking disparagingly about the former Labor Minister, even though it was common knowledge among the coalition’s leadership that her stepdaughter was dying. At the heart of the matter is a background briefing the Chancellor held with German correspondents covering European affairs on September 29—three days after the stepdaughter’s death.

It is a standard rule in Berlin politics that remarks made during background briefings are not to be quoted directly; consequently, this account reflects only what other media outlets have reported on the incident. According to these reports, Merz criticized Bas for her recent infrequent presence in Berlin, claiming this was causing delays in pension legislation. This, in turn, outraged the SPD leadership, who had learned of the Chancellor's comments. Such is the toxic power of rumor.

Was this truly an "inhumane and callous" attack, as Manuela Schwesig described it? Bas evidently perceived it as such, deciding to mention "public attacks—unfortunately, including those from the ranks of the coalition partner"—in her letter of resignation. The Union has no sympathy for this stance. The issue at hand was the legislative timetable, not Bärbel Bas as an individual. In fact, Merz thanked Bas for her "commitment" on the day she withdrew—only to complain a day later, in a speech to the employers' association, that Bas’s ministry had been too slow in implementing the reform plans. After all, the pension commission had submitted its recommendations as early as June.

The largest possible informal body

Perhaps the problem is also that the parties involved seem to have lost all sense of hermeneutic goodwill; instead, they impute ulterior motives to one another. The Union suspects the SPD of blocking the reforms. The SPD suspects the Union of trying to distract from the discord within its own ranks, where the reform is likewise controversial.

When Merz and Klingbeil first took office, they emphasized how well they got along, how frequently they spoke on the phone, and how perfectly they complemented each other. Today, they barely trust one another. Yet, over the past week, not only Merz and Klingbeil but the coalition’s entire leadership pledged to stop working against each other and start working together again. In practice, however, this means that an ever-greater effort is required to reach even the most minor decisions. The lack of progress on pension reform is not primarily due to Bas’s absence from Berlin; work on the relevant draft legislation has long been underway at her ministry, and an initial internal draft regarding the new retirement age regulations is already complete. Die ZEIT has obtained a copy of this document. It includes the politically controversial proposal to abolish the pension scheme for those with 45 years of contributions—albeit with transitional periods.

The coalition parties have so far been unable to agree on whether this should be explicitly enshrined in law. Many within the Union consider these timeframes too generous, while many in the SPD find them insufficiently generous. Also unresolved is the question of whether politicians should contribute to the statutory pension scheme, as demanded by the commission (with the SPD in favor and the Union opposed), and whether "mini-jobs" should be abolished (a move the CSU strongly opposes). In July, the coalition leadership even jointly decided to postpone passing the pension legislation until after the elections in Saxony-Anhalt, Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, and Berlin. After all, Union politicians have learned during the election campaign just how unpopular the abolition of penalty-free retirement after 45 years of contributions is among the general public.

Discussions are now underway as to whether the government, together with the state premiers and parliamentary groups, should attempt to reach an agreement. Only then would this be put into writing and introduced in the Bundestag. The federal government, the states, and parliament acting as a joint legislative initiative body—it seems the separation of powers must be suspended just to make any progress at all these times. It would be the GRÖMÖIG—the "Greatest Possible Informal Body."

So, we have found it after all—power; it hasn't actually vanished. But it has changed: it is small, scattered, fleeting. It smells different, too—not of testosterone, as one might have expected, but of fear. It seems to be simply waiting for someone to come and claim it, to restore it to its accustomed state: divided, yet not fragmented.

Translated by Google Translate, all mistakes are my own. Original German text without the paywall: https://archive.li/Um5na.